


Vos Encounter

by shadowmaat, SLWalker



Series: Taking Flight [10]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Drinking, Gen, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-01-07 09:47:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12230421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowmaat/pseuds/shadowmaat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SLWalker/pseuds/SLWalker
Summary: With Master Jinn and Obi-Wan away on a mission, Maul is feeling a little lost and confused. It's just the wrong time to run into Quinlan Vos, whose idea of helping is to make things worse.





	1. Chapter 1

It was bound to happen sooner or later. He knew that. Jedi were meddlers; they went out and meddled with things. But knowing something and facing the reality of it weren’t the same thing. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were a highly valued negotiation team. They’d only stayed in the Temple so long because of Maul. Now, however, they’d been sent out to meddle. To negotiate a sticky problem that no other Jedi could handle. And they’d left Maul behind.

He’d spent the first day pacing through their empty quarters. He’d cleaned. He’d tended to the plants, even though Qui-Gon had watered them before he left. He tried to meditate, but found his concentration shot. He’d heated leftovers, eating even though he wasn’t hungry, and then he’d crawled into Obi-Wan’s bed and stayed there, willing sleep to come.

It didn’t. Not for many hours, at least. His sleep was fitful and his dreams uneasy.

It wasn’t as if he’d never been alone before. He’d spent most of his life away from the company of others. Occasionally there’d been missions from his Master where he’d had to fit in and interact with people, but those were temporary things and the consequences of getting too close to someone were... well. He’d learned that lesson the hard way. It was only since coming to the Temple that he’d learned there was another way to live. That, too, had been a hard lesson to take in, but the rewards had been infinitely better. Until now.

The second day started with Issa and Archix Clan. He thought he’d been doing a good job of covering up his feelings until Issa crawled into his lap, gave him a hug, and promised that everything would be okay. She shared her sweetcake with him, told him a rather violent story about rancors, and then kissed his cheek and invited him to bunk with Archix Clan for the night so he wouldn’t be lonely. Maul thanked her but said he’d be fine. Ignoring the highly skeptical look she gave him he made his excuses and headed out.

Bant made time for him at lunch for the first few days, but she had tests coming up and was clearly distracted. Master Nu allowed him to help in the Archives and even offered advice about separation, information about the world where Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had been sent, and trivia regarding the Je’daii. He did his best to pay attention but eventually she shooed him out and said he could come back when he got over “The Mopes,” whatever that was.

He spent a lot of time pacing the halls like a feathery ghost, avoiding Qui-Gon’s far-too-empty quarters. The bond he shared with Obi-Wan allowed him to sense that he was still out there, but not much else.

It was during one of these circuits that he crossed paths with Obi’s friend Quinlan Vos. He’d heard a lot of stories about Quinlan but had met him only rarely as Obi tried to keep the two of them apart, citing that the Kiffar was “pure trouble.”

“Trouble” took pity on him and offered to help take his mind off his worries. By that point Maul was desperate enough to accept. His sleep was disrupted, his feathers needed a good preening, and he couldn’t stop thinking about all of the terrible things that could go wrong on Qui and Obi’s mission.

Quinlan’s solution involved a lot of alcohol. Maul was not unfamiliar with drinking, but hadn’t developed a taste for it. The drink of choice for the evening was something called daranu, which tasted sweet and lacked the burn he associated with alcohol. He was beginning to wonder if he was, in fact, only being served fruit juice when, after the third or fourth (or fifth?) glass, he realized that the floor had gone wobbly. The padded bench he was straddling helped him feel more secure, but it was still a disconcerting sensation.

Quinlan didn’t seem to notice. And if he was feeling the same effects it wasn’t showing. Maul nodded along with what he was saying, grateful that the padawan was willing to do most of the talking. He’d already shared a few rather interesting stories about the antics he and Obi-Wan had gotten up to in the years before Maul’s arrival. Some of them even startled a laugh out of him, although the one about the fountain, the missing robes, and the diplomatic escort also sent his imagination spinning in directions it shouldn’t go.

“So.” 

Quinlan drew the word out and Maul felt a prickle of unease slide along his spine. He looked over to where the padawan was splayed on the couch. 

“You and Obi-Wan, eh?” He grinned.

Maul continued to regard him in silence, unable to sense where this was going.

“Can’t say I blame you.” Quinlan flicked one of his braids out of his face. “Obi-Wan  _ is _ very easy on the eyes. And he certainly knows how to put that silver tongue of his to good use.”

Years of practice came to his rescue, keeping his expression blank as jealousy burned through his veins. Shock. Confusion. Paranoia. He stared down at the diamond pattern of the bench cushion. Was  _ this _ why Obi-Wan had kept him away from Quinlan?

“Of course he’s always had impeccable taste, too, when it comes to…”

The words faded, drowned out over the roaring in his ears. He lost the thread of whatever Quinlan was saying, bowing his head, as he tried to recall his breathing exercises. Unwelcome thoughts of Obi’s tongue tracing patterns on Quinlan’s skin kept intruding. Feathers ruffled, prickling uncomfortably. It didn’t mean anything. It  _ didn’t. _

“Hey, if you’re going to puke, grab the wastebasket first,” Quinlan said. 

“I need to go.” Maul stood, almost tripping over the bench in his haste to escape. Trap. This was a trap.

“Hey, hey, easy!” Quinlan was there, catching his arm before he fell. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just-”

Maul hissed, pulling free of the unwelcome hold. Unwelcome. Offensive. One wing flicked out, knocking a stack of datapads off a table. 

Quinlan stepped back, hands raised. “Whoah, sorry! Look, I was just kidding, okay? Obi-Wan always said I talk before I think.”

The floor was working against him and he couldn’t stop his wings from trying to flap, but he made it to the door. Hearing Obi-Wan’s name in Quinlan’s broad, raspy voice was wrong.  _ Everything _ was wrong. Nothing could be trusted, least of all himself.

“I was just trying to have a bit of fun with you because Obi- uh, because that- that’s just how I am!” Quinlan moved into his line of sight, not quite blocking his exit but definitely impeding it. “He talks about you all the time, so I thought it’d be fun-”

Maul  _ shoved _ with the Force, knocking him aside. “Thank you for the daranu,” he said, manners engaging on reflex. “I’m leaving now.”

Quinlan wheezed from a pile on the floor. Before the door closed Maul thought he heard him mutter, “Obi’s gonna kill me,” but he was already moving down the hall, wings spread for balance as he tried to concentrate on remembering the turns to get back to Master Jinn’s quarters. Part of him just wanted to find a hole to crawl into and stay there, but another part was pulling him in the right direction.

His mind whirled in frenzied circles. Was Quinlan more than a friend to Obi-Wan? Did it matter? And what had he meant about Obi talking about him? Was he saying good things? Or complaining? No, it had to be good. He might be…  _ confused _ about some things, but he knew down to his core that Obi would never do anything to hurt him. Not intentionally anyway. Although maybe he’d been wrong about some things? No. Not this. RIght?

He skidded along some of the walls, unable to sort his thoughts and hoping he wouldn’t get in trouble for knocking the padawan over. He couldn’t find it in him to care if he did. What was that line Master Nu had told him?  _ Emotion, yet peace. _ He struggled to find peace amid his emotions, finally finding it as he stepped into his- his  _ home _ , if he understood the word correctly. Familiar smells and warm echoes of Master Jinn and Obi-Wan wrapped around him. His shoulders relaxed. His wings tucked themselves in.He was still… upset? Unsettled? But at least now he felt safer.

Staggering across the apartment, shedding clothes as he went, he finally wound up naked and burrowed in Obi-Wan’s bed. The world kept trying to spin around him but he hugged the pillow, breathing in the lingering scent of Obi and letting it remind him of the good things.

The occasional sparring sessions they managed to sneak in that left them both breathless and sweaty. Obi leaning against him as they watched holos together. Meals with Master Jinn. Laughter. All the casual touches. Fingers gliding along his arm or touching a wing or horn. Preening sessions. The time he’d been allowed to braid Obi’s hair. None of that was fake. None of it was imagined. No matter how many mistakes he’d made or how unworthy he might be he knew that Obi-Wan liked him. On some level, at least. That was enough. It had to be. He clung to the memory of warm fingers wrapped around his own, picturing a sunlit smile and soft words as he drifted off to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Maul woke up with a skull-splitting headache.

It had been a shockingly long time since he'd been in some kind of physical pain. While he had not forgotten what pain was -- or how severe it could get -- he wasn't _used_ to it like he had once been. All of the learning and training he had done to control such things had slipped, and now he was desperately unprepared to handle it.

He tried to lay still, but the blankets felt too hot, tangled half around him. When he kicked them off, the cooler air was a brief, sweet relief, but then his stomach churned.

He literally crawled to the 'fresher, unable to even gain his feet and walk there properly, and spent the next several minutes (which felt like several hours) throwing his guts up, relieved he had been so thorough in his cleaning routine when he laid an arm across the toilet seat to brace himself. His skin was hot, until it was clammy and cold. When he finally quit heaving, he didn't move right away.

Bits of the night before returned. Drunk. He had gotten drunk. With Quinlan Vos.

Maul had never been _drunk_ before. Not exactly. Drugged in a similar fashion, but that hadn't been his own choice. He didn't think he would ever do that again, willingly. He shivered on the cold tile floor, a sprawl of ungainly limbs, and--

There was no going to the healers for this. Alcohol was contraband in the Temple, so far as he knew; at least, unless he had passed the age of majority by now -- seventeen -- and if he hadn't it was _definitely_ not allowed for him, he wasn't even old enough to buy it to drink, and if he went to the healers, Master Jinn would find out and--

Then the rest of it came back.

Long after his stomach was empty and his throat was raw, he was still huddled in the corner of the oversized shower, shivering despite the heat of the water raining down on him.

 

 

 

 _Pathetic,_ his Master said, full of contempt.

Maul happened to agree.

His head was still splitting, his empty stomach still sore, when he dragged himself out of the 'fresher. Carefully, meticulously, he dressed and then just as carefully, he cleaned up after himself. Gathered his clothing for the laundry unit, made the bed. Scrubbed the 'fresher again.

Anger was doing him little good; everytime he grabbed hold of a good spark of it -- aimed at Quinlan, aimed at himself -- it was quickly drowned again by a directionless but overwhelming anxiety.

That meant he had fear left, and so, he used it.

He couldn't make himself eat, but he went to the nearby training salle and worked out. He didn't make eye contact with anyone on the way there. He exercised until his muscles burned and he could barely stand, and then went back to their quarters, showered and slept in his own bed.

He did that again, and again. And again.

Long after the headache was gone. He ate whatever the cafeteria handed him, when he remembered to eat, but didn't say anything to anyone. He trained. He slept poorly. He trained more. This was a world he could understand; this was a world he knew how to navigate. It did not involve-- trusting in good intentions only to be trapped. Did not require he think about anything, except what he was supposed to do. As he had no other tasks, he trained.

He answered comm calls from the Archix Clan master, but only to excuse himself. He set the comm in the quarters to take messages otherwise. He didn't listen to any that were left.

And so, it went.

 

 

 

It was foolish, he decided, to be invested to the point of being unable to function alone. And foolish to believe that his prior lessons in trusting others had been entirely worthless. In all of the heady wonder of being treated gently by so many, in having-- having things to do that were not covered in blood and bruise, in having someone who touched him and made him feel--

Maul had forgotten what he was, for a time.

Now, he remembered.

He did not _forget_ that he had been treated kindly here, but he had let his guard down and had paid for it. As well he should have. Quinlan had maneuvered and trapped him and reminded him of his comparative worth, and while he was not grateful for the lesson, he accepted it.

He also returned the favor.

"Look, about what happened--

The young man was off of his feet before he finished the sentence, having just walked into the training salle.

Maul tipped his chin up, fire burning in his blood, as he held Quinlan aloft in a Force hold, fingers curled to claws in representation of the squeeze, wings raised behind him, spread in display. Something held him back from holding the padawan by his very throat, but Maul pinched that closed for a moment in warning when Quinlan tried to speak further.

"You have reminded me of a valuable lesson," he said, voice only raised enough to be clearly heard. "Consider this a favor returned and the only warning I will ever give you."

He snapped his hand open and watched Quinlan fall, smacking against the ground; it would bruise, but little worse. Then, feeling the roiling shock and anger (and guilt?) radiating off of Quinlan, he walked out, showing his back, unafraid of retribution.

He wished that was enough to erase the sparks of hurt buried under it all, which ached for a return to the life where he had been learning how not to wait for the knife between his ribs.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Issa hasn't seen Maul in DAYS and she just KNOWS something his HORRIBLY WRONG and so she sneaks out of the creche to go and find him because that's what friends do, right??

Issa’s pillow vibrated, startling her awake. She slipped a hand under the pillow to silence the alarm and held her breath, listening to the room.

Lots of quiet breathing and the occasional snore or whistle as the rest of her clan slept. The glowstones kept the room from being too scary, but her heart was beating fast anyway as she grabbed Stripey and slid out of her bunk. There was a folded up piece of flimsi under her mattress and she tucked it into her nightshirt as she started climbing down the ladder being as quiet as possible. The floor was cold against her feet, making her toes curl, but opening her trunk to get her shoes would be too noisy, so she ignored it, tiptoeing across the Sleeping Room. Nobody heard her. Nobody woke up. There  _was_  a gleam of eyes from the low bunk nearest the door and a small hand reaching out. She caught Zip’s furry fingers in her own, giving them a gentle squeeze, knowing he’d take it as thanks for all his help.

Zip had been the one who’d “borrowed” Master Vrik’s datapad and helped her find the map. Between the two of them they figured out how it worked. She’d copied down the important bits on a piece of flimsi and Zip had put the datapad back without Master Vrik ever noticing. She tried not to feel guilty about it. After all, this was Important. Maul hadn’t been by to visit her in forever, even though he’d promised he would. Master Vrik had told her he wasn’t feeling well, but she knew that wouldn’t have stopped him. Even if all his skin started melting off he’d find a way to come and say hi. Although that might be a little gross.

Slowly slowly slowly she inched the door open. It hadn’t latched properly because she’d stuck her gum over the stick-out bit. She was proud of that, having remembered it from an animated holoventure they’d watched last week, back when things were still okay.

The Playroom was darker than she expected. She clutched Stripey, holding the stuffed tooka in front of her as she moved step by step through the blackness. The door to the main hall was right across the way and she could see a faint bar of light where it must be. Nothing attacked her or Stripey and she let out a relieved sigh. Feeling along the wall by the door she located the code box. Zip had spied that out for her, too, but not being able to see the buttons made it trickier. It took two tries to get it right. After the first mistake it buzzed, making her leap back and almost drop Stripey. No one came, though. Not Master Vrik and not the faceless Temple Guards and not the ghosts that Molly said were always searching for younglings to gobble up.

The second try made the door go CLANK. She opened it and had to shield her eyes against how bright it was. Did they turn the lights up at night? Were the grownups scared of things, too? The door shut behind her with another CLANK and now it was too late to turn back because she was locked out. Not that she would turn back, not when Maul needed her. He might not know it yet but the fact that he was staying away and that he’d been sad when she’d last seen him had to mean something bad.

She pulled the map out of her shirt and unfolded it. A spiky-headed smiley face showed her where the bottom was and then all she had to do was follow the red crayon mark until she got to Master Qui-Gon Jinn’s quarters. That’s where Maul lived, with Master Qui-Gon Jinn and Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi, his best friend aside from her. She stifled a yawn as she set out. Being sleepy was not the way to start an adventure.

It was after midnight and the halls were empty. Sometimes she thought she heard a whisper or saw something moving out of the corner of her eye, but whenever she looked there was nothing there. Stripey was on alert and so was she. She followed the map and stretched out her senses as far as they would go. At one point there was a turn that wasn’t on the map, so she did what Master Vrik had been coaching them to learn: she stopped, closed her eyes, and tried to listen to the Force. The Force wanted her to go left and Stripey agreed, so left they went. Soon enough they were back on track and before long Issa found herself staring at a door marked J-I-N-N.

“OKay, Stripey, this is it.” After folding the map again and sticking it back in her nightshirt she stared at the door, hopping from one foot to the other. She’d worked out everything she was going to say to Maul already, about how she missed him and it was mean of him not to come and visit and that she loved him and was going to keep him company until Master Jinn and Padawan Kenobi came home. She was going to tell him he was pretty and funny and that whenever she got sad or felt lonely it was always nice to get a hug, even if it was only from Stripey. She reached up, petting the feather that was tied onto her front tentacle to give herself courage. Then she reached out and knocked on the door; two soft taps she was afraid he wouldn’t hear and then two louder taps she was afraid everyone else would hear.

“Maul?” She spoke in a loud, squeaky whisper. “Maul, it’s me! Issa! Can I come in?”

Nothing. She fidgeted, twisting Stripey in her hands as she checked to make sure that the Temple Guardians weren’t about to swoop down and grab her, but she was still alone in the hall. She pressed herself against the door, trying to listen. What if he was asleep? Or gone? Or in trouble? Or- or if he was mad at her?

“Maul?” It wasn’t a wail, but it was close. “Can I come in? Please?”

She sensed… something. And then the door opened, almost spilling her into the room. She caught herself before she tripped and stared up at Maul. He was dressed in silky black pants and no shirt and he felt wrong. Not feathery and soft like he was supposed to, but prickly all over.

“Um.” She took a step back.

“Issa?” He frowned down at her, and even his frown was weird. “What are you doing here? Isn’t it the middle of the night?”

“Um,” she said again, trying to remember all the things she’d wanted to tell him. She twisted Stripey in her hands.

“Does Master Vrik know you’re here? Is something wrong?”

“Um!” She burst into tears. It was embarrassing, but everything had gone confusing all of a sudden. Seeing Maul was supposed to make things better, but it wasn’t.

“Shh, it’s okay.”

A hand on her shoulder drew hew into the room and for a moment the pricklies got worse before disappearing altogether. She heard Maul close the door and then he was kneeling in front of her.

“Issa, are you hurt?”

She shook her head, but couldn’t stop crying. Her sniffles turned into hiccups and then Maul was pulling her into a hug and patting her back. It only made it worse. She wrapped her arms around his neck, ignoring the way the corners of the flimsi were digging into her stomach.

Maul was trying to say reassuring things to her. She pressed her face into his neck and sobbed.

"I- I- _hic-_ I missed you," she wailed.

"I'm sorry, Issa," he said, and the rumble of his voice seemed to fill her whole body. "I haven't been feeling-"

"I'm sorry!" She sniffled. "I'm sorry I- _hic-_ I said- _hic-_ whatever made you go awa- _hic-_ away!” She felt him stiffen.

"What? Issa, no!” He scooped her into his arms and she felt the brush of wings as he stood. “No, it isn’t your fault! I just… haven’t been feeling well.”

“Lying.” She hiccuped again. Pressed close like this she could almost taste his emotions and they were all bad, but none of them felt like sick.

Maul was quiet, rubbing her back. The prickly _angrysad_ feeling was back, but he was still warm and he was still Maul and she still trusted him. Another hiccup and she sagged against him, wrung out from crying and sneaking and being out way past her bedtime.

“It isn’t you, little one,” he said. “It could never be you. I just… I’m not fit to be around people.”

His words were made extra bitter by the bad feelings coming off of his skin. She wanted to lift her head to try and get away from it, but that didn’t seem fair and she was feeling too heavy anyway.

“That’s silly,” she murmured, yawning. “I like bein’ around you. So does th’ rest of th’ clan.” She snuggled closer, pulling one arm free long enough to squish Stripey against his cheek. “Stripey likes you, too. An’ th’ other clans’re jealous ‘cos you come ‘n visit us, not them.”

His breath huffed against the top of her head. “Is that so?”

“Uh huh.”

“I think it’s time to get you back to the creche. Master Vrik is probably worried.”

“Noooo.” She kicked her legs against him, but not very hard. “Wanna stay wif- with you. So you’re not lonely.” This yawn stretched her jaw all the way.

“I appreciate the thought, but I’m fine,” he said, carrying her towards the door.

“Nuh uh. Can’t lie t’me.” She shook her head, making her tentacles wiggle. She had special lessons once a month with Master Fisto to help her learn about being Nautolan. One of the most important parts, aside from swimming, was learning to understand emotions and how their species was equipped to read them.

“I’ll be fine, then,” he said. “I just… had a reminder about my place here in the Temple.”

Issa wrinkled her nose at the emotions she could feel on him. “Your place is t’be my my Master some day,” she informed him. “And be Padawan Kenobi’s friend, I guess.”

Another huff of air. “I can’t be your Master, Issa, you know that. I don’t belong in the system. I don’t belong anywhere.”

She wasn’t sure she was supposed to hear the second bit because he said it quietly, but she still smacked the back of his neck with Stripey.

“Stripey says you’re being stupid.” It was a struggle to keep her eyes open as the halls drifted past her.

“Oh, she does, does she?”

“Uh huh. He’s a he, now an’ he says of course you belong ‘cos yer happy here an’ you make others happy, like me ‘n Paahhh…” She yawned. “Pad’wan K’nobi, ‘n Zip, ‘n Wrrl’nik, ‘n Siyaal, ‘n… ‘n maybe not Molly, she’s weird…”

Maul’s chuckle jiggled through her. Most of the prickly feelings had gone away now. There was still a sour taste/smell on his skin but it wasn’t as bad. Or she was getting too tired to notice it. Her eyes were trying to droop shut again.

“What do you have in your shirt?”

“Mmm?” She blinked. “Map.”

“A map?”

Nodding, she stretched up to plop Stripey between his horns and then reached in her shirt to pull out the piece of flimsi to show him. He shook it out and studied it.

“This is how you knew where to find me?”

She nodded, retrieving Stripey and tucking him against her neck.

“May I ask where you got it?”

“Zip ‘n me took… borrowed Master Vrik’s thingy and made a thing.”

“Zip and I,” Maul corrected. “I should have known the Selonian was involved. You and Zip will both owe him an apology for borrowing his stuff without permission. And you owe him one for leaving the creche without permission, too.”

Issa grumbled, but didn’t deny it.

“I… am sorry, too, Issa,” Maul said. “I didn’t mean to worry you. Or make you think I didn’t like you anymore. I’ve just been… upset about some things and needed some time.”

“S’okay.” Her fingers curled against his neck. “Love you.”

The halls were quiet except for a brief rustle of feathers. Sleep made her floaty and she could feel contentment drifting like clouds. Movement stopped at some point and she heard voices. Maul’s buzzed against her and Master Vrik sounded confused and upset. Oops. She wriggled, wanting to explain that she hadn’t meant to cause trouble she was just worried about her friend, but she was being carried and then put into bed. Stripey was tucked in beside her and the blankets pulled up. A warm hand pressed to her forehead and she finally managed to get her eyes open. Maul was watching her, his golden eyes gleaming in the light from the glowstones. Master Vrik was there, too. Ha patted her leg.

“We will have a big talk in the morning, hmm?”

She sighed. Even if she was grounded forever, it was worth it. Unless grounding meant she couldn’t see Maul again. She glanced at him, suddenly worried. He lifted his hand, smoothing down the black feather on her forward tentacle.

“Go back to sleep, Issa. You’re going to-” He froze, eyes going wide.

“Mmm?” She struggled to sit up as his head turned, staring up and back at something she couldn’t see. “Maul?”

“Obi-Wan!” He grimaced and there was a brief twist of- of something, and then he was out the door and gone.

Relieved, Issa cuddled under the covers with Stripey, humming acknowledgement as Master Vrik wished her goodnight. If Padawan Kenobi was home then everything was going to be okay.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qui-Gon reflects on his past choices and present opportunities. He and Obi-Wan return from their mission and talk to Maul, who gives them an abbreviated account of what happened with Quinlan Vos. Punishment is decided.

What should have been a simple diplomatic mission to Nooli had turned out to be little more than a ruse for the various factions to try and kill each other. Qui-Gon had done his best, but after three bombing attempts, an assassination, and a failed poisoning of a state dinner both he and Obi-Wan had attended, he’d been forced to admit defeat. In order to achieve peace you first had to want it and it was clear that the Noolians were more invested in killing each other than in trying to bring their world together to make it a better place. He’d given them a stern lecture about the dangers of hubris, cautioned them against requesting Jedi aide under false pretenses, collected his padawan, and left. **  
**

Making matters more complicated on a personal level was that while all of this was going on Maul was ignoring their messages. It had seemed an oversight at first, but as the days dragged on and Obi-Wan became more distracted by the continued silence, Qui-Gon found that he was growing uneasy as well.

He’d felt some disquiet over leaving Maul alone for so long, but had ignored it, assuming he was being overprotective. It was a hard balance to strike between showing care and becoming too attached. His Master had cast a long shadow over his life and sometimes he could still feel its effects. Between that and his failure with Xanatos it was no small wonder that he’d encountered problems with Obi-Wan as well. Luckily for both of them he’d recognized it a few years back and sought ways to correct it. Including reaching out to his first padawan, Feemor. He was a Master now and a fine one by most accounts, one who was able to forgive Qui-Gon his missteps. Reconnecting with him had helped to ground Qui-Gon and remind him of how things could be.

Those reminders and the lessons learned guided his way as he fumbled to bridge the gaps between himself and Obi-Wan. It was a slow process, one that Maul’s arrival had thrown into disarray. Here was a child who was already so damaged that any further missteps could risk shattering him. Time to learn from his past mistakes was a luxury Qui-Gon could no longer afford and so he’d worked hard to be better faster. It had been working, too; Maul had finally begun to relax and the nightmares he thought Qui-Gon didn’t know about had lessened in frequency.

Obi-Wan’s presence had been life-saving. Literally. The two had bonded even before the Force gave them a more direct connection and Qui-Gon was grateful every day that they had found each other. Maul had steadied some of Obi-Wan’s impulsiveness just as Obi-Wan had tempered some of Maul’s anger. They were a good team, and although Maul would never go on to be a Master in his own right he still expected great things from both of them. As long as the Council didn’t interfere overmuch.

It was the possibility of interference from the Council that had him concerned about Maul now. It wasn’t like him not to answer a call, especially if it was coming from Obi-Wan. He’d managed to shave some time off of their transit back to the Temple, putting them in a few hours earlier than expected. Not that he thought the Council would take any action behind his back, of course, but given the disaster of their mission he thought it would be good for himself and Obi-Wan to get home as quickly as possible. He could sense some tension in the Force, but nothing that precluded disaster. Maybe he was only inviting trouble where none could be found. He hoped so. One thing was certain: Maul would be glad to see them.

Of course one other thing was certain as well: Obi-Wan would be equally glad to see Maul. He’d been breathing down Qui-Gon’s neck as soon as they dropped out of hyper and by the time they’d landed he was pacing by the door.

“Obi-Wan-”

Too late; his padawan had started down ramp before it had finished extending and was off like a shot across the hangar bay. Sighing, Qui-Gon followed at a more sedate pace. It was well after midnight in the Temple and he could sense no disturbances in the Force. At least not until he arrived at his own doorstep.

“Master, he’s not here!”

Worry rippled off of Obi-Wan, who had presumably checked all the rooms and was now making sure that Maul wasn’t hiding in a closet, a habit that had plagued him in his earliest days in the Temple.

“Calm yourself, Obi-Wan. I’m sure there’s no need for concern.” Qui-Gon tried to keep a frown from forming as he entered the living area. Everything seemed to be in order and there were no signs of a struggle, but he could pick up traces of distress in the Force. Whether it was from Maul or from Obi-Wan himself was impossible to determine.

“Obi-Wan?”

The soft voice, deeper now than when he’d first heard it, had Qui-Gon turning. Maul stood in the doorway, shirt missing and wings slightly raised. The emotions pouring off him were dark and knotted right before they disappeared behind an impenetrable wall.

“Maul!”

Qui-Gon felt himself pushed aside as Obi-Wan rushed towards his friend.

“Where the kriff have you been? I was worried!”

Maul tensed, managing to turn his shoulder towards Obi-Wan as he entered the room and preventing what Qui-Gon was sure would have been a hug. His eyes remained downcast.

“I apologize for not being here,” he said, his tone giving away nothing. “Issa managed to escape the creche and I had to make sure she got back to Master Vrik safely.”

“Issa? What-”

“Is everything alright?” Qui-Gon moved to rest a restraining hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

“Yes, Master Jinn.” Maul’s wings twitched. “She was merely upset that I have not been to visit her for a few days.”

“I see.” He squeezed Obi-Wan’s shoulder, forestalling the questions he could feel bubbling within him. “And how have you been otherwise? We were concerned when you didn’t answer our messages.”

Maul’s expression remained blank, but his head tilted and wings spasmed in a way they hadn’t for weeks. It was the careful non-flinch he adopted when he expected to be punished. Qui-Gon’s heart sank to see it again.

“I didn’t mean to cause any concern, Master Jinn.” Maul looked up, staring at a spot just to the left of his ear. “I haven’t been feeling… I’ve been preoccupied for a few days and was not able to access the comm.”

“Are you okay?” Obi-Wan pulled free of Qui-Gon’s hold, reaching towards Maul. “Are you sick?”

Maul leaned back, staying just out of his reach, his eyes shifting to avoid looking at him. “I’m fine,” he said, and you didn’t need Force sensitivity to hear the lie.

“Would you like to talk about it?” Qui-Gon kept his voice soft and conversational. It felt as if they’d somehow traveled back in time, their months of helping Maul adjust to a life of freedom seeming to have vanished.

Maul’s wings clenched against his back. “Yes sir, I’ll talk.”

That hadn’t been what he asked, but it seemed pointless to clarify. He gestured to a high-back chair. “Please, have a seat.” His arm went out as Obi-Wan moved towards the seat beside it. “Would it be easier for you if Obi-Wan were to leave?”

His padawan whipped around to look at him, shock and betrayal ringing through their bond. “What-!”

“No, it’s fine.” Maul sat ramrod straight on the chair, but his wings sagged behind him. “He’ll hear about it anyway.”

They were not words to inspire confidence. He sat on the couch and after a brief pause Obi-Wan continued over to sit beside Maul, though he refrained from reaching out as he normally would.

“So, then.” He clasped his hands in front of him. “What happened while we were away?”

Maul’s wings trembled and stilled. He took a deep breath, looked Qui-Gon in the eye, and launched into what sounded like an official report.

“The first few days were uneventful. I kept to a schedule, visited with Issa, and had lunch with Bant. I worked on some of my studies. I- slept. I- ate. I was, was fine.”

Qui-Gon could almost _hear_ the edits and wondered what was being left out, but he held his tongue.

“A few nights ago I couldn’t sleep.” His gaze shifted, no longer quite so direct. “I went for a- walk and bumped into Quinlan Vos.”

“Oh, frip.” Obi-Wan covered his face, dragging the fingers down.

“Language, Padawan.” Qui-Gon continued to watch Maul. The tremble in his wings seemed to have spread to the rest of him, although there was no other outward sign of what was bothering him.

“Sorry, Master.”

Maul licked his lips and started again. “He invited me back to his quarters. For drinks. He said it would help. With sleep.”

Obi-Wan had covered his mouth, but his look would have melted durasteel. Qui-Gon was harboring some unfriendly thoughts of his own about Padawan Vos. He was a bright boy, but his capacity for creating disaster in the name of “fun” was prodigious. He’d cautioned Obi-Wan about the friendship before, most recently after Maul’s arrival and the _Beefcakes of Bespin_ Incident, but it seemed that some things were as inevitable as the tide.

“Did he hurt you? Make you do something you didn’t want to do?” He doubted Vos was the sort of person to take advantage of a situation like that, but it was a question that had to be asked.

Obi-Wan made a startled noise, eyes rounding as he looked first at his Master and then at Maul. It was, at least, enough to crack Maul’s shields.

“No,” he said, lip curling. “He was perfectly _civil,_ even _friendly.”_ The way he spat the words had Qui-Gon on alert. _More_ on alert. Obi-Wan reached out, not quite touching a wing.

Maul deflated. “He said- something that- that upset me, and I left.” Consciously or not he shifted in his seat, adding another inch of space between himself and Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon leaned forward, able to feel shimmering traces of shame and guilt radiating off of Maul, twisting into knots.

“I’m sorry that Padawan Vos’s behavior hurt you. I’ll be sure to comm his Master in the morning and see that he apologizes.”

“I’ll kriffing kill him,” Obi-Wan growled. “That swaggering, idiotic son-of-a-”

“Padawan.” Qui-Gon frowned at him. “That’s enough.”

“He already did,” Maul said, so softly Qui-Gon almost didn’t hear it. He’d tucked in his elbows and his wings were starting to curve around him.

“Did he?” Qui-Gon waved his padawan into silence. “That’s good, isn’t it?”

The feeling of shame and guilt intensified. Even Obi-Wan winced.

“He… tried.” Seeming to gather himself, Maul straightened again, lifting his chin as he made eye contact. “He came to me while I was in one of the training dojos, but I… reacted poorly.”

“Was he injured?” Another question he didn’t want to ask. He couldn’t stop the trickle of unease he felt. Had he failed his charge again?

Maul took a deep breath. “I levitated him with the Force and- and dropped him. He’ll have bruises, but not- nothing permanent. I’m sorry, Master Jinn. I shouldn’t have lost my temper. I’ll accept any punishment you give me.”

The micro-flinch again, as if he expected to be hit. Qui-Gon took a moment to sink into the Force to gather his thoughts and soothe his emotions. It was a complicated issue with several key pieces missing. He needed to strike a balance between stern and forgiving that wouldn’t shatter Maul and the fragile good they’d managed to accomplish with the former Sith apprentice.

“If anyone should be punished it should be Quin!” Obi-Wan burst out.

Qui-Gon opened his eyes, giving him a quelling look, but his padawan merely scowled back.

“It has been a long day for us both, Obi-Wan. Why don’t you get ready for bed?”

“What?” Obi-Wan was on his feet, hands clenched. “Master, you can’t be serious! Not now!”

“Goodnight, Padawan.”

Obi-Wan opened his mouth and closed it again. He turned, facing Maul.

“I’m sorry, Maul,” he said. “We’ll talk later, OK?” Pivoting again he strutted off to their room, deliberately not slamming the door.

Sighing, Qui-Gon moved into the chair Obi-Wan had just vacated and placed a hand on Maul’s shoulder. Maul didn’t flinch.

“There’s a lot you’ve left out,” he said. “But we’ll leave that for later. How does Issa fit into this story?”

Maul blinked, looking up at him. “Master Jinn?”

He smiled, trying to project reassurance. “You said that she sneaked out of the creche. Why? And how did you become involved?”

A crease formed on Maul’s brow. This didn’t seem to be a line of questioning he’d expected.

“I hadn’t been to visit her since… since the night with Vos. She was worried and came looking for me.”

“All by herself?” Qui-Gon’s eyebrows shot up. “What an amazingly resourceful youngling.”

A brief glow of pride filtered through Maul’s murkier emotions. “The Selonian helped, but she made it through the halls and lifts all by herself.”

“It was good of you to make sure she got back safely. Was Master Vrik upset?”

“He was more upset with himself than her. He vowed to sleep more lightly from now on.”

Qui-Gon shook his head, smiling. “Even if he could manage that I’m not sure how much it would help in the face of the sheer determination of younglings.”

“Am I going to be sent away?”

He let his shock show, tightening his grip on Maul’s arm. “No, of course not. We promised to take care of you when we took you in and a Jedi keeps their promises. But you do understand that what you did was wrong, don’t you?”

He felt a tremor pass through the boy, who nodded wordlessly.

“Will you trust me with what it was Padawan Vos said that upset you so much?”

Another tremor and a tightening of the jaw. Maul’s lips were pressed thin.

“I thought as much.” Qui-Gon sighed. “Perhaps what is most needed now is a stern lesson in learning how to treat others gently, even if they do something you don’t like.”

He stood, offering a hand to Maul, who regarded it like a weapon before he accepted it, allowing Qui-Gon to help him to his feet.

“It’s getting late for all of us,” Qui-Gon said. “In the morning I’ll speak to Master Vrik. Perhaps he could use an assistant for a few weeks.”

Maul froze. He wasn’t even breathing.

“You’d best get some sleep while you can.” Qui-Gon said. “Issa and her friends are sure to run you ragged. And test your patience.” He winked before raising his voice. “And don’t let my padawan keep you up late trying to interrogate you. _Both_ of you need sleep.”

He heard an offended huff from the direction of Obi-Wan’s room. Maul was still staring at him.

“Assistant? In the creche? With all the _younglings?”_

Maul’s voice was too deep now to really squeak, but he gave it a good try.

“Primarily you’ll only have to deal with Archix Clan, but I’m sure you’ll meet several of the others as well.” Qui-Gon tried to mask his amusement at the look of alarm that passed over Maul’s face. The more he thought about it the more he liked the idea of Maul being surrounded by a mob of children. If anyone could help Maul learn to control his emotions it would be the crechelings who overflowed with them.

“Good night, Maul. We’ll discuss this in more detail in the morning.”

Maul stared for another long moment before blinking. “Yes, Master Jinn. Good night.” He turned, wings tucking closer as he headed for the room he shared with Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon watched until the door closed and then let out a tremendous sigh, heading for his own room. He’d failed his charges in the past, but was determined not to let it happen again. Not now and hopefully not ever. In the morning he’d make sure to speak to Master Tholme as well and make sure he knew what his padawan was getting up to when he wasn’t around. With a little luck and the guidance of the Force maybe this crisis could be turned into something good for everyone. There was always hope.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maul still isn't talking, so Obi-Wan goes to the only other person likely to have the answers.

Obi-Wan sat on the edge of his bed, attention focused on Maul as he entered the room. He bit his tongue, waiting for acknowledgement, but Maul kept his back to him as he pulled his blankets down and prepared to climb into bed. At last he couldn’t stand it any longer.

“Maul?”

There was a long pause in which neither of them so much as breathed.

“I’m tired, Obi-Wan,” Maul said. “Can it wait?”

He wanted to say no. He wanted to say that that he couldn’t stand seeing him like this and that he was here for him no matter what. His shoulders sagged.

“Yeah… okay.”

Maul finished getting into bed, shifting around to arrange his wings. The lights dimmed. Obi watched for another minute before giving up. He pulled off his boots and outermost tunic, dropping it to the floor before climbing into his own bed.

Silence.

Obi-Wan could feel the brittle edges of some emotion through their bond, but that was it. Maul had sealed himself off. The sting of rejection was salted with concern over his friend’s sudden unwillingness to talk to him. He and Quinlan were going to have words in the morning. If he had to search the whole Temple he was damn well going to get to the bottom of this.

Sleep was a long time coming. Obi-Wan played out a dozen different conversations with Maul covering a dozen different scenarios, each worse than the last. Exhaustion finally caught up with him and he spent the rest of the night tumbling through scattered pieces of dreams.

He awoke to discover that Maul was already gone.

“He left around dawn.” Qui-Gon sipped his tea. “And you are not to go after him, Obi-Wan, do you understand?”

“But Master!” Obi tried to straighten his clothes. “He’s really upset about something and I-”

“Yes,” Qui-Gon interrupted. “And when he’s ready I’m sure he’ll come to you, but until then you’ll give him the time and space he needs. Won’t you, Obi-Wan?”

“Yes, but-”

“Excellent. You may want to clean up and have some breakfast. We’re due to meet with the Council to discuss our mission to Nooli.”

Obi managed to bite back a rude reply, turned, and went back to his room. Meeting with the Council was the last thing he wanted to do right now and given how little help he’d been on the mission he didn’t know why his presence was even necessary. However, not showing up would only raise more questions and he’d had enough of the Council and their “concerns” about Maul.

He went. He spoke. He was polite. And as soon as the meeting was concluded he was out the door and down the halls, intent on finding the only other person who could shed light on what had happened.

Master Tholme seemed unsurprised by his arrival. Obi wondered if his Master had commed ahead to warn him.

“He’s in his room meditating on the error of his ways,” Master Tholme said. “His true punishment begins tomorrow.”

“Punishment?” Obi stepped past him into the living quarters, which were more warmly decorated than Qui-Gon’s.

Master Tholme’s smile was thin. “Oh, yes. You’re sure to hear all about it from Quinlan. Go on in.”

Obi crossed the room, pausing to try and push his anger out into the Force before he knocked.

“Yes, my dear Disappointed Master, I’m still here.”

Obi frowned. “No, it’s your disappointed friend, Obi-Wan.”

A thud followed by footsteps. The door opened to reveal a prickly-haired Quinlan Vos, still in his sleep robe.

“Are you going to punch me?”

“I’m thinking about it,” Obi admitted, his hands clenching. “Quin, what were you thinking?!”

Quin grimaced. “Clearly I wasn’t. Come on, no need to give Sherrik more ammunition.”

Obi stepped in, pivoting to face him. “Seriously, Quinlan, did you lose your fripping mind? I told you to leave him alone!”

“Yeah, I know.” Quin scrubbed his face, leaning back against the door. “And I should have listened. I just thought it’d be funny! I thought I could make him jealous and-”

_“Jealous?!”_ Obi realized he was yelling and stepped closer, jabbing Quin in the chest as he continued in a hiss. “What the frip are you talking about, jealous? Jealous of what?”

Quin’s expression slackened. “He… he didn’t tell you?”

“No, Quin, he wouldn’t tell me anything! He barely even said anything to Qui-Gon about it and he always takes my Master’s questions seriously!” Obi started to pace, stepping over piles of discarded clothes and pillows. “All we know is that you got him _drunk_ and then you said something that really upset him!”

“Oh, damn.” Quin dragged his hair back. “I’m going to burn in the Sith hells forever.”

“Yes, probably.” Obi glared at his friend, taking in the slight graying around his eyes and the wrinkled state of his robe. “So you might as well start talking.”

“Yeah.” Sagging to the floor Quin looked up at him. “Look, Obi-Wan, I know I can be a bit of a jackass sometimes, but I didn’t mean to hurt the kid like that!”

Obi’s lips closed over a protest. Maul was underage, but not by that much. Not that it mattered right now.

“I’m sorry, okay? It was supposed to be funny. Harmless!” Quin waved a hand. “I thought if I made him jealous he’d go running into your arms, so I-”

“You- what?” Obi shook his head, trying to make the words make sense. Sure, Quin had been teasing him about his crush, but this?

“...So I kinda sorta implied that we, uh, had been a thing.” Quin’s attempt at a grin wavered and collapsed.

_“WHAT?!”_

“Everything alright in there?” Master Tholme asked.

“Yes, sir!” They replied in unison.

Obi clutched his head and stalked to the far end of the room, decreasing his chance of throttling Quin.

“I can’t believe you’d- that’s- what the- _why?”_ He turned again, staring at Quin, who was resting his head on his knees.

“I don’t know,” Quin said, his voice muffled. “Like I said, it was supposed to be funny. The kinda banthashit padawans joke about all the time.”

“Maul-” Obi paused and tried again at a lower volume. “Maul isn’t a padawan. And his childhood was- was a nightmare. He doesn’t get jokes like that!”

“Yeah.” Quin lifted his head. “I know that. Now. But I figured… I mean I’ve met street rats before and they’re usually a pretty tough bunch, so I figured he could take it, even after the whole horrible experiments thing.”

“Street rat.” Staring, Obi dropped onto the end of Quin’s bed, hands steepled over his mouth. “You think Maul is just a street rat?”

Quin’s brow wrinkled. “Yes? I mean you’ve been pretty secretive about it, but what else could it be? I know you said he’s a Nightbrother, but I figured he just… escaped? And grew up on the streets? No? No.” His head dropped again. “I got everything wrong, didn’t I?”

Obi’s mind raced, trying to recall exactly what Quin did and didn’t know. The injunction from the Council made it hard to discuss details of Maul’s past, and Maul himself could be fanatical about privacy. He weighed his options before speaking.

“Maul was being raised to be an assassin,” he said, watching his friend. “He was kept isolated and abused even before he got caught between two factions. One side sought to sabotage him and the result was him gaining wings. The other side planned to mutilate him by chopping them off.”

“Merciful Force.” Groaning, Quin thumped his head against the door.

“He managed to escape, evaded most of the assassin droids sent after him, and wound up here.” Obi leaned forward, most of his anger evaporating in the face of Quin’s obvious remorse. It had been rippling off him since his arrival but now it intensified.

“Obi-Wan, you know I would never…” Dark eyes met his. “If I’d known I’d never have tried anything like that.”

Obi sighed. “Yeah, I know. But Quin, maybe in the future don’t try and help my love life, okay?”

“Hah.” Quin slouched even lower. “You need all the help you can get, friend. But in this case, yeah, I kriffed up on a galactic scale.”

“Yes, you did.” Obi moved off the bed to sit beside him. “But at least you know it.” He let his eyes unfocus, working through his thoughts. “How I feel about Maul is… complicated. I’m not even sure what I do feel, really. But I think what he needs most right now are friends. He’s never had them before.”

“Kriff.” Quin thumped his head again.

“Except maybe one, and she died.” Obi ignored the interruption. “So he’s still learning how all that works. _Friendship_ , Vos-Man, that’s what he needs now. Not… not whatever,” he said, ignoring the unhappy flutter in his stomach.

“Yeah, okay. I get that.” Quin nudged him with an elbow. “I’m gonna be apologizing for this for the rest of my life. Starting with an official one to Maul.”

Obi opened his mouth to object.

“That I’m going to record because I don’t think any of us want me going near him again.” He grinned. “That’s part one of my punishment.”

“What’s the rest?” Obi asked, remembering Master Tholme’s smile.

“I’m doomed to spend the next month helping Master Che in the Healer’s Hall.” Quin wrinkled his nose. “Something about teaching me the proper way to treat people in delicate condition.”

Obi-Wan burst out laughing. He wasn’t sure if he felt more sorry for Master Che, who’d have to wrangle him, or for the patients who’d have to put up with his questionable bedside manner.

“Yeah, laugh it up, buttface.” Quin elbowed him again, grinning.

“What are you, ten?” Obi elbowed him back.

“If I was I’d still be taller than you!”

After a few minutes of playful shoving and increasingly ridiculous insults, they agreed to a cease-fire.

“So,” Quin panted. “We good, now?”

“I’m still pissed at what you did. And getting him drunk? Really?”

Quin gave a full-body shrug. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Yeah, that’ll be engraved on your tombstone.” Obi heaved himself upright with a groan. “What I think doesn’t matter half as much as what Maul thinks,” he warned, holding out a hand to Quin.

“Trust me, I know.” Quin grabbed the hand and pulled himself up off the floor.

“But for what it’s worth I don’t think you meant to hurt him and as long as you never do anything like that ever again, I guess I can forgive you.”

Quin’s relief washed over him. “Good,” he said. “And maybe in a few years Maul can forgive me, too.”

“Maybe.” Obi smiled, keeping his skepticism under wraps. “Anyway, I should let you get back to your meditation.”

“Ugh.”

“I need to go, uh. I need to go,” he said.

“Yeah.” Quin clapped his shoulder. “Go take care of your little fledgling and see if you can undo all the damage I did.”

Obi looked at him. The smile was still there, but the creases had deepened around his eyes.

“I will,” he said, opting for the simplest answer. And it was true, too. He said his farewells to Quin and Master Tholme and headed back to his own quarters. It might take a while and he’d have to find a way to earn Maul’s trust back, but now that he had an idea of where things had gone wrong he could figure out how to repair it. Part of him wondered why Maul was so bothered by the idea of him being… intimate with Quinlan, but he quashed the thought down and buried it. _Why_ wasn’t important; all that mattered now was showing Maul that he still belonged. Whatever happened or didn’t happen in the future, one thing that wouldn’t change is that Obi-Wan would always want him in his life.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan tracks down Maul for a heartfelt discussion to clear the air between them.

Finding Maul proved to be trickier than expected. For a brilliantly-colored zabrak with wings he had an uncanny ability to disappear when he wanted to; even his Force signature had all but disappeared. As closed off as their bond was, however, Obi-Wan had determination on his side. Add in some patience and a bit of luck and in the end it led him to one of the more remote and little-used training rooms.

Maul worked through his adapted katas, the hum of the training saber and the rustle of wings were the only sound. Obi-Wan stepped inside, caught between not wanting to interrupt and needing to clear the air between them. The edge of a mat solved his dilemma, sending him sprawling.

“Obi-Wan!” The training saber snapped off. “Are you alright?”

“I think my dignity is bruised, but it’ll recover.” Glancing up he saw Maul was now beside him. He reached out, trying to muffle his relief when Maul grasped his hand and helped him back to his feet. It only lasted a heartbeat, a briefly kindled warmth before he let go and stepped back, wings tight against his shoulders.

“What brings you here?” The words were stiff and formal, addressed to the floor.

All the grand speeches he’d rehearsed during his hunt fled his mind. “I, uh, I missed you.” He winced at the baldness of it.

Maul’s gaze flicked up and away again. “That isn’t necessary.” He turned, walking back to return the saber to its rack.

Obi stared. “Necessary? Wh- no, I mean, it isn’t necessary, but it still… I still…” He could feel his grip on the conversation sliding away from him. “I talked to Quinlan!” The words fell out before he could stop them.

Maul froze, wings quivering.

“I- I mean, kriff, I’m messing this up.” He scrubbed a hand over his mouth as if it could erase the conversation.

“It’s fine. You can talk to anyone you want.” Maul finished hanging up the saber and headed to the door, his movements jerky. “It isn’t my concern.”

“It is your concern, though!” Obi moved in front of him, blocking his way. “He wasn’t telling you the truth! Please, just let me explain?” He gestured at the nearby bench.

The pause seemed to stretch forever. Obi-Wan held his breath, half-expecting Maul to walk past him. He did take a half-step forward before pivoting to sit on the bench, arms folded over his chest.

“This isn’t necessary,” he repeated. “Master Nu is expecting me in the Archives soon.”

Obi’s legs wobbled as some of the weight lifted off his chest. He sat next to Maul, angling towards him as he spoke.

“It _is_ necessary because you’re my- my friend,” he said, trying to catch Maul’s eye. “Quin’s my friend, too, but he’s a bit of an asshole sometimes. He says things he doesn’t mean to try and get a rise out of people and sometimes speaks before he thinks. A lot of times, really.” He was babbling, but it was hard to stop.

Maul’s gaze remained locked on his knees.

“Quin and I, we aren’t… we’re not like that.” He could feel his ears burning. “We’re just friends. I don’t even know if I…” He hesitated. He was treading into dangerous waters, now. “I mean, it’s all against the Code, anyway, but if I… It wouldn’t be _Quinlan Vos_. I like to think I have some taste, you know.” Smiling, he nudged Maul with his elbow.

There was another of those long, agonizing silences. Obi chewed his lip in an effort not to fill it.

“Thank you for clearing that up. I should go.” Maul stood.

“No.” Obi jumped up, snagging Maul’s hand. “Please. Look, Quin doesn’t even matter, okay? What matters is us and we’re still friends, right? And we always will be.” He squeezed Maul’s hand. “No matter what. No one’s coming between us. Not Quin or anyone else.”

Maul’s fingers tightened around his hand, almost painful.

“Friends.”

There were textures to the word that Obi couldn’t read. His heart thumped against his ribs.

“Always.”

Maul shook his head. “You don’t mean that. You don’t know.”

“There’s a lot I don’t know,” Obi admitted, hoping Maul couldn’t tell that his palms were getting sweaty. “But that’s one thing I’m positive about. Us. Forever. Or- or as long as you want, that is.” Something twisted in his heart at the thought. He ducked his head, studying their still-joined hands.

One minute Maul was still as a statue beside him, the next Obi-Wan felt himself enveloped in a rib-crushing hug. The shock passed and he returned the hug, holding tight and burying his nose against Maul’s bare shoulder. His eyes closed as he breathed in the familiar- if sweaty- scent. Maul was trembling, one blunted horn digging into Obi’s tunic.

“I’m here,” he said.

“I’m glad.” Maul’s wings spread wide and he sighed, a hot gust that raised goosebumps on Obi’s arms.

“Are we okay now?”

Maul lifted his head and looked at him. If his eyes were a little shinier than usual, Obi wasn’t about to say anything.

“I think so.” A smile flickered over his face before disappearing. “But I really do have to meet with Master Nu.”

Their faces were so close.

“Yeah! Yes, well, that’s fine, then.” Obi stepped back, gulping air. “I’ll, uh, see you at supper, then?”

“I suppose.” The words carried the weight of resignation, but the corners of his mouth twitched. “As long as it isn’t your turn to cook.”

Warmth spread through him, lighting up his face. “I’ll have you know my cooking is perfectly adequate. But _it_ is Qui-Gon’s turn, if you’re worried about your delicate constitution.”

“Tonight, then.”

Their eyes met again and the air seemed to hum between them. Obi released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding as he felt something settle back into place. He watched Maul leave, unable to stop smiling. Things were going to be okay between them; he had a good feeling about this.


End file.
